Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Was he violent at first?” Evander asked.
“No, not at first. Mostly he started coming home later and later. He’d say work kept him, and honestly, I didn’t understand what he did for a living back then. I knew it was something only borderline legal, but—” I shake my head and suppress a shiver. “He started hitting me about a year into things.”
I go silent and Evander doesn’t press me. A rush of memories floods my head: Christopher drunk and shouting, Christopher begging me to forgive him, Christopher slamming my face against the headboard of our bed, Christopher rubbing my feet and telling me how much he loved me. A chipped tooth, a broken wrist, countless bruises, myriad indignities, and then suddenly we were moving to Chicago.
“His work brought us out here,” I say and sit hunched over the coffee like I might fall into it. “I didn’t know anyone in Chicago and when we first showed up in the city, it was like coming to a foreign country. All I had was Christopher. I was totally isolated, and sometimes I wonder if he did that on purpose, so I couldn’t tell anyone what he was doing to me. But I also realized something.”
“What’s that?” he asks gently.
“I had an opportunity. Christopher was too busy with work and dealing with the move to pay much attention to me, and if I was going to escape him, I figured that first week would be the time. He also didn’t know the city, and it would be hard for him to follow me since he didn’t have such a big network of friends out here. Or at least that’s what I assumed.” I shake my head, still not sure how he managed to track me down, but things are slowly clicking into place.
“And here we are.” Evander’s still studying me. “What does he do for work, Camille?” His voice is forceful now.
“He never really said, not straight out. He told me it was better if I didn’t know, in case—” I leave the last bit out.
“In case the law got involved?”
I nod miserably.
Evander’s face twists briefly, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I sit up straighter, trying to hold myself together, but the rotting wounds of my past are still there, still speckling my skin. I don’t know when I’ll heal, or if I ever will, but I’m not going to let it drag me into a grave if I can help it.
“Camille, asteraki mu, I need you to be honest with me now. Is your husband a man like me? Does he do work like mine?”
I take a deep breath and slowly nod. “Yes. I think so.”
“You think so?”
“Yes,” I say and let some of my frustration spill out. “Okay, yes, Christopher is a low-life gangster, a freaking mafia asshole, okay? I didn’t know it when I married him, but I think my parents did. And they pushed me into it anyway. Can you imagine selling your eighteen-year-old daughter to a freaking mobster? Knowingly giving her away?”
Evander rubs his temple and holds up a hand. “One thing at a time. This is very, very important. Is Lanaro your married name?”
I hesitate only for a moment, but I can’t hold anything back right now, and shake my head. “No, it’s my maiden name. I figured—”
“What was your married name?”
“Conti,” I whisper.
Evander groans and tilts his head back. He stares at the ceiling as he releases a rapid string of Greek, none of which I understand, but I get the feeling he’s cursing the world and his rotten luck.
“Your ex-husband is Chris Conti,” he says finally, looking back at me.
“He insisted that I call him Christopher. You can guess how many times he had to slap me before I got that through my head, but yeah, everyone else calls him Chris.”
Evander leans forward. “Your ex-husband is Chris Conti, Capo in the Pavone Famiglia. Your ex-husband is one of the most violent and dangerous men on the street right now, and my family is at war with him.”
I sit there blinking rapidly.
Earlier today, I was under the impression that Evander was a wealthy and important businessman—I had no clue that he ran a Greek crime family.
Now I’m finding out that not only is he the boss, but he’s at war with the Italians.
And my ex-husband.
It’s like my world is cracking apart. My old life is colliding with my new one, and everything’s crumbling like two cars slamming headfirst on the highway. Evander’s staring at me still, but his eyes brim with hate, and I don’t know what to do. I want to get up and run—but that didn’t work out too great for me last time.
“I didn’t know,” I say finally and I hate the pleading tone in my voice. “I didn’t have any clue who you were until a few hours ago.”